Michael
by Nausicaa Smith
Summary: The Vizard mourn the King of Pop.


Shinji was startled from his afternoon meditation when he heard a loud wailing coming from outside. _Mashiro must have burned herself cooking again_, he thought. But the wailing continued, and eventually annoyed him enough to prompt him to slide off the bed and see what was going on outside his room.

Mashiro was lying in the floor outside her room on the other side of the landing, kicking at the wall and screaming so hard that her face had turned an impressive shade of red. With her green hair, she looked something like a Christmas ornament. Shinji jumped across the gap and landed next to Lisa, who had come from her chores to see what all the fuss was. Together they looked down and observed the frenzy that Mashiro had worked herself into.

Kensei appeared from below a moment later and started shouting her down. Typically he was the only one who could calm her, so Lisa and Shinji just observed. Shinji rather suspected Lisa had her camera in the pocket of her apron; she played the blackmail game well, Lisa did.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kensei was screaming, but Mashiro only spluttered incoherently through her tears and pointed into her bedroom. Lisa and Shinji poked their heads in. God, what an awful mess! No wonder he kept seeing the occasional ant and cockroach, there was old food and laundry piled up everywhere, and the light was burned out. He would have cried too if his room looked like this. The television was on though, and Lisa was transfixed by the news story that was ticking across the bottom of the screen.

And then she burst into tears.

What. The. Fuck.

"Yo, Lisa!" Shinji shook her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Michael Jackson died!" she sobbed, pointing at the tv. At her words, Mashiro's wailing became all the louder, causing Kensei to cover his ears and back away. On the television was an image of some candlelight vigils or some nonsense, with a reporter talking about his latest album and child molestation and his estate and blah, blah, blah. Mashiro was now rolling around in true Mashiro fashion, kicking at the walls and sobbing incoherently. Kensei had locked himself in his room.

"Lisa, I hate to be the one to tell you, but at some point… everyone dies."

"But not Michael!"

Oh, good grief. Shinji took Lisa by the elbow and guided her out into the hall, over Mashiro, and down the stairs. Mashiro's screams carried all the way down to the kitchen, where Shinji sat her at the table and gave her a glass of water. He stirred the pot of beans on the stove that Mashiro had started. Hiyori appeared at the doorway.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked irritably.

"Some singer died." Shinji said.

"Who?"

"Michael Jackson."

"Oh." She looked troubled, but she didn't start blubbering like Lisa and Mashiro had. Lisa was still at the table, sobbing into her hands. Hiyori reached across the table and pulled her glasses off for her, and set them on the table. "Simmer down. It could be worse."

"How?" wailed Lisa, banging her head down on the table.

"Uh… well, it just could be!" Hiyori stomped out. Well, at least _she_ was acting normally.

Shinji followed her a minute later and found Hachigen starting up his epic stereo system. Billie Jean came on loud enough to rattle the windows, and Shinji suddenly remembered where he knew the name Michael Jackson from. Mashiro calmed at the sound, and lay quietly in the floor listening to the music. Shinji had to admit, it was a good song. Nothing worth crying over, though. Clearly Mashiro wasn't going to finish cooking. Shinji sighed, headed back to the kitchen and tossed some more salt in the pot of beans. He hated cooking, but he'd be damned if they were going to eat pizza again. He was really starting to hate pizza.

Hachi left the music on, and Mashiro and Lisa spent the afternoon together with Love and Rose, sitting down on the warehouse floor and singing along with those old Michael Jackson songs. Shinji could remember when they were new, and Love had worn green sunglasses, and Lisa had her hair rolled with tongue depressors, resulting in a ridiculously poofy style that Hiyori still brought up sometimes during arguments. That had been around the time Hiyori had cut her own hair a little shorter and added her little hair clips. Rose had had an impressive collection of different colored silk shirts. Hachi had bought his first computer. It had been an interesting time in the real world.

Many hours later, after a somber dinner during which Mashiro continued to sniff and hiccup and Lisa barely picked at her food, Shinji lay in bed lamenting the wasted day. They should have been training for the upcoming war, not boo-hooing over a human.

There was a knock at the door, and Hiyori appeared in her pajamas. She was holding a small candle in one hand, and it cast a yellow light around the room.

"Can I sleep with you?" she asked in a small voice. "Mashiro's still crying over on that side, and she's loud."

"Yeah, come on." Shinji scooted over and made room for her. Up close her face was a little blotchy. _Not you too, dammit!_ Crying was waaay out of character for Sarugaki Hiyori. She must have been more attached to this Jackson guy than Shinji had realized. But she was quiet, and she sat her candle on the table and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her breathing evened out quickly, and Shinji was relieved that she wasn't so upset that she couldn't sleep. No worries, then. It really was ridiculous, the way Mashiro and Lisa had reacted.

Still, it was rather a shame that there would never be another Billie Jean. Shinji mentally tipped his hat to the dead man, snuffed out the candle, and fell asleep.


End file.
